Lupi 04 - Night Season

sex, but the sleeping-with. She’d picked up guys a few times back in her young and stupid days because she didn’t want to sleep alone.
    Fantasy played better than reality. Reality was having a stranger’s elbow poke you when he rolled over. Reality was cover hogs, feeling crowded, and morning breath. A man she scarcely knew who wanted her to talk first thing in the morning, for God’s sake. Reality was that she could feel even more alone when she wasn’t technically alone.
    Reality tonight was Cullen. Who’d died protecting her. No heartbeat, not breathing…that equaled dead, however temporary the condition turned out to be.
    Protecting the baby-to-be , she reminded herself…but the reminder felt hollow. Did she really believe he would have stood back and let the slug-men kill her if she weren’t pregnant?
    He smelled familiar and welcome. He felt warm and living and necessary , which made her eyes burn.
    All right, Lady, she told the one she knew existed, however much her existence complicated Cynna’s life. You brought him back. Now what?
    Though she listened as long as she was able, all she heard was the quiet sound of his breath, the gentle lap of water against the hull, and the soft chanting in a language she didn’t know. It was soothing, somehow, that chanting.
    She fell asleep, still listening.

TWENTY-FIVE
    M AGE lights clustered thickly over the table, making breakfast as cheery as possible with no sun. It was a long, low table; the gnomes sat on low benches, but everyone else was on cushions. And everyone except Gan—who was apparently still asleep—was present for the meal.
    No one was smiling much.
    The barge was still anchored. Water lapped gently against its sides as it swayed in the river’s current like a man in a hammock on a lazy summer day. Nothing else was summery. The air was cold and misty. It smelled of the river, smoke from the braziers the gnomes had brought out, and the yeasty scent of fresh-baked bread.
    Turned out that Third Assistant of the Red Jasper Collar meant baker of the magical sort. “Collar” referred to a ring of red jasper stones used in lieu of an oven. Cynna had just finished eating two thick, warm slices of magically baked bread slathered with some kind of jam or marmalade.
    She sipped at her tea, which she hadn’t finished. She would, though. It was specifically for pregnant women—supposed to keep her from getting morning sickness, which so far she’d avoided without any tea. But nausea was one of her least favorite things, so she’d rather not take any chances. If she wasn’t crazy about the tea’s vaguely floral taste, well, it wasn’t bad.
    Lily would have hated it here. No coffee.
    She missed Lily. She missed cars, too, and cell phones and NPR and Pop Tarts. And sunshine. She’d only been here a few days—no, not days. Sleeps. And she missed the sun something fierce.
    How many sleeps? Suddenly anxious, as if losing track of that number meant losing something more nebulous and vastly more important, Cynna counted. “Has it been only six days?” she murmured.
    â€œSounds right.” Cullen sat on the cushion next to hers. He was able walk this morning…slowly. “If you’re talking about our sojourn here.”
    â€œI am.” Cynna glanced at him. He’d broken his fast with smoked fish—three large smoked fish. Lupi were big on protein and needed even more when they were healing. “Does it smell good to you here?”
    His sideways glance held surprise. He smiled. “It does. I prefer ocean, but the Ka has a rich bouquet. Much more pleasant than concrete and exhaust fumes.”
    Her eyebrows shot up. “You like Edge.”
    â€œIn many ways, yes. I’m not crazy about the growing tendency of various groups to try to kill us, but the air is clean, the land and water smell healthy, and there’s an abundance of magic.”
    Daniel Weaver spoke from across the table. “It took me a while to get used to the seasons here, and of course I spent the first year trying frantically to get back, or at least send a message…but your friend is right. There’s much to love about Edge.”
    Daniel Weaver. Her father. Cynna wasn’t used to that word having such an immediate and concrete meaning…“Will you stay here?” she asked. “If everything goes well and they get a gate opened to Earth, will